


Knocked Down But Ready for a Fist Fight

by vixleonard



Series: The Sum of Our Parts [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Babies, F/M, Friendship, Love Triangles, Poor Life Choices, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9831722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixleonard/pseuds/vixleonard
Summary: Bucky and Steve decide the only way to maintain their friendship is for neither of them to be with her, a decision they make without Peggy and relay to her the day before the SSR allows Steve to be released from the hospital.To say this pisses Peggy off is an understatement.





	

Bucky and Steve decide the only way to maintain their friendship is for neither of them to be with her, a decision they make without Peggy and relay to her the day before the SSR allows Steve to be released from the hospital.

To say this pisses Peggy off is an understatement.

She stands there in Steve’s room, still wearing the dress she wore to work, a box of pastries from Steve’s favorite Brooklyn bakery in her hands, and looks back and forth between her husband and former lover. Finally she manages, “I’m sorry?”

Steve looks ashamed; Bucky won’t look at her at all, his eyes fixated on something outside the window.

“None of this is your fault,” Steve begins, and Peggy just manages not to throw the box of pasty at him.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you,” she snaps, voice sharp enough to cut to the bone. She doesn’t miss the way both of them flinch.

“I told Buck I’m not upset you two…I’m happy you two had each other.”

“And yet?”

Bucky finally turns towards her, his face as stoic as she’s ever seen it. It reminds her of the way he looked after Steve first rescued him from Azzano, a man with a white knuckle grip on the world. “And yet we never would’ve gotten together if Steve hadn’t…had his accident. And I don’t feel right about staying married to his girl.”

“I’m no one’s girl.”

“That’s not what he means,” Steve offers, sounding like his smaller self again, but Bucky doesn’t shrink away from her anger. They’ve been together long enough to have experienced each other at their bests and at their worsts, and they’ve had enough fights loud enough to rattle the windows that her icy calm will not rock him back on his heels.

“You know what I mean.” Bucky rubs at his face. “You remember what it was like when we got back from the war, how hard it was to adjust. Well, Steve’s doing that now and we got to help him, right? It’s not going to help him knowing we’re…We all got to figure this out on our own, Peg. You know I’m right.”

She does. She knows how hard it was acclimating to civilian life again, knows how hard it still is. They both still have nightmares, still have hair triggers about certain things. They’ve both lost people they’ve known since war’s end to the bottle or their own pistol. All of them – herself, James, Howard – they all want to help Steve. And Peggy certainly hasn’t missed the awkward way they’ve all been interacting, tiptoeing around the fact she and Bucky married while Steve remained in stasis in the Arctic ice. But for the first time in her life, Peggy didn’t want to confront that problem. She wanted to pretend it would work itself out, that they’d return to being friends and laughing and as for the romance…Well, she hadn’t gotten that far.

But she also wanted to be part of the decision, wanted to be an equal part in figuring this out rather than given the report afterwards.

Peggy sets the pastry box on a nearby table. Keeping her gaze locked with Bucky’s, she pulls off the ring he put on her finger only six months earlier and extends it to him. “That’s that then, hmm?”

Bucky doesn’t take the ring, his façade starting to break, and she sees Steve look away out of the corner of her eye.

She sets the ring next to the box. “I bough you both your favorites. I hope you enjoy them.”

“Peggy!” Steve calls after her but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back.

She manages not to sob until she gets to Angie’s apartment and then she cries for two days straight.

* * *

It’s on the front page of every newspaper, the lead story on every radio program: Captain America found alive! There are parades and celebrations and they trot out all of the Howling Commandoes to celebrate the return of their fearless leader.

The United States Army does not invite Peggy to participate. Under different circumstances Peggy would’ve been bothered but not surprised by the slight, but this time she’s grateful to not be part of the Captain America Victory Tour.

“There wouldn’t even be a Captain America if it wasn’t for you,” Howard drawls one evening as they drink Scotch straight from the bottle, both of them uninvited to a White House reception for the 107th and both of them gluttons for punishment by listening to it on the radio. 

Peggy shrugs. “At least Dr. Erskine will be a footnote in the story. I doubt we’ll even be mentioned at all.”

“Fuck ‘em all,” Howard slurs.

“I fucked enough of them,” she says without thinking, and Howard laughs so hard, he ends up spitting expensive Scotch all over her.

* * *

She moves into a small flat Ana helps her find owned by a Hungarian couple that don’t ask questions so long as the rent is paid. Ana sews her curtains with little apples embroidered on them and hangs them in the tiny kitchen, insisting they brighten the place up and make it feel like home.

Home is her apartment with Bucky, several miles away, now being rented by someone else since he and Steve moved into a place together in Brooklyn. The two of them helped Peggy carry her furniture out of that place and up the three flights of stairs to her new one, Steve bearing most of the weight, Bucky directing him when his view was obscured.

“You boys must stay for lunch,” Ana insists, already making sandwiches with the bags upon bags of food she brought from the Stark mansion, insisting Howard would want Peggy to have it so it didn’t go bad while he was in California. 

“You don’t have to go to any trouble, Mrs. Jarvis,” Steve says even as Bucky smiles and drops into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Trust me, Steve, if Ana’s cooking, you want to be eating.”

“You flatter me. They’re just sandwiches. Anyone can make sandwiches.”

“Not like you, Ana,” Bucky insists with a flirtatious grin that makes Peggy’s heart ache.

Both of them wolf down multiple sandwiches while Peggy unpacks boxes, needing to keep her hands busy, her mind busy. They seem to be so much better at friendship than she is and it frustrates her to no end. 

“Can we do anything else to help?” Steve asks before they go.

Peggy smiles and shakes her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you for all of your help.”

“Of course.” Steve hesitates for a moment before stepping into her, giving her a hug and surprising Peggy with a brush of his lips against her cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” she lies.

Bucky gives her a stiff hug, almost as if he is making sure no part of his body touches her, and Peggy kisses his cheek just to spite him for being so cold.

* * *

It’s easier with Steve.

Peggy doesn’t understand why but reestablishing a friendship with Steve doesn’t take much effort. He invites her to lunch and brings her coffee and they trade books they think the other may like. Never once does he bring up what happened before, what they were during the war; there are moments when she can tell he’s remembering something, when he wants to say something, but Steve’s self-control is as strong as his shield. They transition from lovers to friends, and Peggy is so grateful to have him back in her life.

But Bucky…

They’re professional at work, the rest of the office knowing something is different but seldom saying something. She catches the tail end of one of Thompson’s comments one day, something about “trading in Barnes to be a star-spangled gal” but she suspects Daniel does his best to shield her from the more crass comments. His sisters still call her, insisting she’ll always be part of the family, and Evie cannot believe Bucky ended their marriage.

“I told him he’s an absolute idiot,” Evie announces one afternoon, “and he’ll come to his senses, Peg, I’m sure of it.”

They don’t share meals or go to the pictures together. The closest they get to any real communication is exchanging glances during meetings when Thompson says something especially stupid or smiling at the other when they know something is to the other’s humor. Peggy doesn’t have much experience with what happens after relationships end; goodness knows after ending her engagement to Fred, they didn’t keep in touch. And she wasn’t ready for things to be done with Bucky. She loved him, she _loves_ him, and it hurts, knowing he could walk away from her with such ease.

The only times they really spend time together is when Steve arranges it, insisting they all see a movie or go to dinner or humor Howard with a request to join him someplace. Sometimes people recognize him as Captain America and he’ll graciously sign autographs as she and Bucky sit in awkward silence, but mostly the three of them talk and drink and pretend. They’ve all gotten so good at pretending, and it’s easiest to do when it’s the three of them.

She has Steve and Steve has her. Steve and Bucky have each other. She isn’t certain she and Bucky will ever have each other again.

* * *

Steve is on the West Coast doing one of his Captain America tours and Bucky is in Washington DC for Congressional hearings when Mary Beth calls her at the “phone company” and tells her through tears she can’t get a hold of Bucky and their father is in the hospital after a massive heart attack.

Peggy has Rose contact every number in Washington before she leaves work and heads straight to the hospital, cursing traffic the entire way. By the time she makes it to the waiting room, Mary Beth, Dolly, Evie, Mrs. Barnes, and a handful of other relatives are there, and all of them look positively wrecked.

“Oh, Peggy!” Mrs. Barnes exclaims when she sees her, bursting into another round of tears, and though Peggy isn’t good with emotional outbursts, she holds Mrs. Barnes as tight as she knows Bucky would and tries to soothe her.

Mary Beth, the oldest and most composed of the Barnes girls, gives her the details: how Bucky’s father complained of indigestion before work, how he’d gone down stairs to get the mail and had a heart attack on his way back up the stairs. A neighbor boy had found him splayed across the steps, unsure how long he’d been there, and an ambulance carried him to the hospital. Peggy knew from nursing in the field that the longer a person went without oxygen, the less likely they were to recover, and this wasn’t Mr. Barnes’s first heart attack. Chances of survival weren’t strong, which is what the doctor tells them several hours later.

None of the Barnes women want to leave the hospital, so Peggy volunteers to help in whatever way she can. Dolly’s mother-in-law has her children and is well into her 80s, so Peggy offers to pick them up and take them back to the Barnes’s family apartment. Mrs. Barnes gives her the keys and kisses her cheek, tells her what a good girl she is and how much they appreciate her.

Evie catches her before she gets in the elevator, her face swollen from crying and says, “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

Peggy hugs her and spouts some platitude about positive thinking. She hopes Bucky gets back in time to say goodbye to his father.

Dolly’s girls are four, two, and six months, and she understands at once why Dolly’s mother-in-law had her hands full with them. The older two are sick with colds, whiny and miserable, crying at the drop of a hat, and the baby screams if you put her down for even a minute. Peggy wants to scream herself after just an hour with them, but she manages to compose herself and calls Ana, asking if she can come help.

Jarvis delivers her to the door, both of their faces folded with sympathy, and Ana instantly takes the baby, insisting she knows a fool proof way to settle her. Mr. Jarvis sets about cleaning the apartment to his exacting standards as well as offering to prepare dinner, and Peggy tries to comfort the two sick little girls who climb all over her and both want cuddled.

“Hold _me_ , Aunt Peggy,” they beg, pushing at their sister to gain more ground on Peggy’s lap, and despite their protests, she slathers their chests with a foul smelling concoction Ana assures her will help their coughs.

Ana offers to stay the night with Peggy, content to walk baby Edith from one end of the apartment to the other, and Peggy makes up a bag for Mr. Jarvis to deliver to the hospital with a fresh change of clothes for Mrs. Barnes. Peggy settles in for a long night with the older girls, the two dozing and then waking with pathetic whimpers until she soothes them back to sleep.

It is just past two in the morning when the front door opens. Peggy hopes for it to be Dolly’s husband, a man she does not like but hopes would show up to claim his children, but she’s shocked to see Bucky instead. He still wears his suit from the hearings, his tie loosened and askew, and his hair is a mess. She wants to leap to her feet and hold him as tight as she can, but she is currently buried under her nieces.

He crosses to the couch, scooping up 4-year-old Helen with the eased practice of someone used to handling children. She fusses a bit but Bucky shushes her, and Peggy struggles to her feet, 2-year-old Mable clinging to her. She follows Bucky to the bedroom that had once been the girls’, Ana and baby Edith asleep on one twin bed. He lays Helen down, Peggy arranging Mable beside her, and her heart breaks at the gentle way Bucky kisses their foreheads. Peggy steps into the hallway, letting him close the door behind him, and she waits.

Bucky looks at her, pain all over his face, and Peggy cannot help herself. She reaches out and cups his cheek, wishing she knew what to say. Bucky closes his eyes, pushing his face into her touch, and Peggy strokes her thumb against his stubbled cheek.

She gasps as Bucky moves suddenly, catching her mouth in a strong kiss. Peggy’s hands fell to his shoulders on instinct, her nails digging into the muscle there, and she opens her mouth, brushing her tongue against his bottom lip. 

It happens so fast. Bucky backs her into his old bedroom, kissing and touching her with the same desperation she recognized from the nights when memories of the war haunted his dreams. Peggy pulls his shirt out of his pants, fumbles with the button and zipper as he tugs her hose and underwear down her legs. She hisses through clenched teeth when he enters her, the movement just this side of rough with too little preparation, and Bucky stills, mumbles an apology against her jaw, massages her clit until she is clenching around him, begging him to move, slick and ready now. 

He thrusts hard and deep, bracing his weight on his forearms, his forehead pressed against hers. Peggy tips up her hips to take him deeper, legs drawn up high against her chest, and Bucky twists his head, kisses her knee even as he hitches her leg higher. She’ll ache in the morning, the sort of ache that makes her blush when she remembers why she hurts, but Peggy takes it, takes _him_ , whispers how much she’s missed him and how it’ll be all right. He buries his face in her neck, groaning as he came, and Peggy held him through it. He tries to touch her again, to tip her over with him, but Peggy pushes his hand away, knowing it isn’t going to happen tonight for her.

She’s a mess and neither of them are fully undressed, but they lay there on his bed, wrapped around each other, both of them waiting to catch their breaths. Peggy’s eyes start to droop, and she tries to fight it. It’s a fight she loses because when she wakes up, it is morning, she is covered, and Bucky is gone.

She finds her wedding band on the bedside table, glinting in the early morning light. Peggy picks it up, studies it, and then slides it onto her ring finger on her right hand. It feels odd, not having it in its rightful place, but if Bucky has given her ring back, she is going to wear it. She finds her underwear and hose, fixes her smeared lipstick and tries to right her hair.

By the time she makes it to the living room, Ana is serving the girls breakfast, and Evie is there too, beautiful face still red and swollen. 

“Dad died last night,” Evie blurts out, and Peggy hugs her even as her head swims.

She doesn’t see Bucky again until the funeral. He and Steve are pallbearers along with his brothers-in-law. Peggy sits with the family on Mrs. Barnes’s insistence, sandwiched between Bucky and Steve in the pew. Bucky will not look at her, will not look at anyone, and she hopes he’s at least talking to Steve. When Peggy finds herself getting choked up, Steve passes her a tissue, and she sees the way his eyes flick towards the ring on her right hand.

But now is not the time so Steve says nothing.

* * *

A week after the funeral, Steve invites her to go dancing, and she knows then Bucky must’ve confessed to what happened between them the night his father died. 

“Is this tit for tat then?” she asks, angry at even the idea Steve could think he was owed something because she and Bucky slept together.

“No, this is me calling in that rain check if it’s still good.”

It hit her hard, the memory of Steve asking for a rain check, the anguish and desperate want for a date that would never come. She hadn’t danced for years after that, and she certainly never went near The Stork Club. It hurt too much. Everything concerning Steve hurt too much.

“All I want is a dance, Peg,” he assures her, voice so sincere no one could doubt it, breaking a little at the end. “Please.”

She buys a new dress in the same shade of red as the dress she wore to the pub during the war. He’d confessed once that he loved her in red, couldn’t see the color without thinking of her. On one of the few days of leave they’d had during the war, she’d freshly applied her red lipstick and pressed kisses all over his body, leaving perfect lip prints in her wake. Every time he reached for her, Peggy swatted him away and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch her until she didn’t leave a mark anymore. 

Angie does her hair for her, always more talented at it than Peggy herself, and Angie tells her she looks like a movie star. Peggy wonders aloud if she’s put too much effort into her appearance for what was to be a platonic date, and Angie raises an eyebrow.

“No offense, Pegs, but you don’t get this dolled up for just any fella. He’s Captain America.”

“No, he’s…He’s Steve Rogers. They’re different.”

Angie points to her hand. “You going to wear your ring?”

Peggy looks down at it, debating. Finally she declares, “It’s _my_ ring. If he has a problem with it, it’s his own.”

Steve’s dumbstruck when she opens the door, his jaw actually dropping, and Peggy can’t help but blush. She isn’t unaware of her beauty, but it’s not something she keeps in the forefront of her mind. But Steve has always been so appreciative, so complimentary, it’s always been enough to make her want to sun herself in his attentions.

The moment they enter The Stork Club, Peggy knows Steve is overwhelmed. It is too loud, too crowded, too _much_. She notices the beads of sweat at his hairline, the way his hands shake ever so slightly as he helps her out of her coat, and Peggy blurts out that it’s fine if they don’t go in and do something else instead.

“One dance,” Steve says with a brittle smile. 

Peggy smiles, slipping her hand into his and squeezing it. “One dance.”

“I still might step on your toes,” he warns against her ear, the noise of the club making hearing difficult for her. 

“I trust you.”

And she does. She’s never trusted anyone as quickly or as easily as she trusts Steve Rogers.

He holds her with the stiffness of uncertainty, face screwed up in concentration as they start to move. Peggy can almost hear him counting the steps in his head, and she catches him off-guard by moving closer, the hand on her hip sliding to the small of her back on instinct.

“Someone give you dancing lessons?”

Steve blushes. “Howard and Bucky tried. They got Evie to help.”

Peggy grins, her right hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of his neck and playing with the fine hair there. “So that explains why you were holding me like I was your little sister.”

Steve’s blush darkens even more. “My ma always said you got to leave room for the Holy Ghost.”

Peggy feels a rush of emotion rising in her throat. She rests her head against his broad chest and sighs. “We’ve had enough space, don’t you think?”

They finish the dance in silence, Steve holding her even closer, Peggy willing her tears to disappear.

One dance turns into three, and afterwards they walk around for a bit, talking and laughing. Peggy tells him stories of The Griffin and Steve talks about some of the ridiculous requests he gets from people who want their pictures taken with Captain America. They are standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change when Steve says, “I don’t want this night to ever end.”

Peggy looks at him, really looks at him, and offers, “It doesn’t have to end yet.”

The man at the front desk gives them a knowing look when they rent the room, Steve scrawling “Mr. and Mrs. Rogers” in the ledger, the words simultaneously making Peggy’s heart skip a beat and her stomach churn with betrayal. They’re fooling no one, checking into a hotel without luggage, but Peggy doesn’t care. She stopped caring what anyone thought of her long ago. This isn’t even the first hotel room she’ll have shared with Steve. But it’s different and they both know it.

They stand in front of the bed, nervous as virgins, until Peggy finally steps into him, resting her hands on his chest as she stretches up on her toes. She whispers, “Be sure,” but doesn’t know if she’s sure about this herself.

“I’ve been sure about you from the first time I saw you,” Steve swears.

It’s different with Steve. He is gentle, slow, still a little uncertain. Peggy knows she was the first woman he ever slept with and she used to tease him about teaching him everything he knows, about what a quick study he was. There is no teasing tonight. Tonight is serious, a reunion years in the making, and Peggy knows she should be ecstatic to finally have what she wanted more than anything. And yet…

He moves over her with reverence, sliding into her with slow, even strokes, kissing her everywhere he can reach. Peggy holds him, moves with him, moans for him, but when he whispers, “I love you,” against her mouth, Peggy tips her head back so Steve doesn’t see the tears in her eyes.

She watches him as he sleeps. He is still, downright boyish in sleep, and Peggy wonders how he can sleep so easy after everything he’s experienced. While he sleeps, she slips from bed, dresses in the bathroom. She scrawls a note on a scrap of paper that she leaves on the bedside table and sneaks out of the hotel room like a thief in the night.

As she walks back to her apartment, she wonders if she had it all wrong. It wasn’t Steve who wanted tit for tat. It was _her_.

Not for the first time Peggy wonders if Steve is too good for both her _and_ Bucky.

* * *

Thompson is the one who breaks the news to her, not even five minutes after she enters the office and gets her coat off.

“You’re late, Carter!”

“And once again I remind you, you’re not my superior.”

Thompson smirks. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Marge. Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Barnes resigned, re-upped with the 107th with Captain America himself. They’re heading back to Europe to round up runaway Nazis. So I _am_ your boss now. And you’re late.”

After Thompson disappears into Bucky’s former office, Sousa walks over to Peggy’s desk and asks, “You really didn’t know?”

Peggy shakes her head, trying to hide her emotions. “No but…Why would I?”

Daniel rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You’re still his wife, Peg.”

When she gets home that evening, divorce papers are waiting in her mailbox. The sight of them, of seeing it laid out in black and white that James Buchanan Barnes wants to dissolve his marriage to Margaret Elizabeth Carter sends her into a rage. Before she’s even aware of it, she’s banging on their apartment door like a mad woman until Bucky swings it open, shock on his face.

“What the hell – “

“Why didn’t you tell me you were joining back up?” Pushing past him, she continues, “You said you never wanted to set foot on that continent again. You didn’t even want to return for Dernier’s wedding. So why – “

“You know why!”

“So what, because Steve decides to be Captain America again, you have to go? Whatever one of you does, the other must do too?”

“We’re needed.”

“And you couldn’t even give me the divorce papers yourself? You leave them in my bloody post box like a coward?”

“I was trying to make it easier on both of us.”

“Easier?! You think any of this is easy?”

Bucky’s eyes flash with anger. “Jesus Christ, Peg, I know this isn’t easy! You think I’m over here having a grand old time?”

“I wouldn’t know what you’re doing because you don’t talk to me anymore! You stopped talking to me the second they pulled Steve out of the ice!”

“He’s my best friend! He’s my brother!”

“And I’m your wife!” Voice breaking, she repeats, “I’m your wife, James. And you owed me the courtesy of telling me what you were doing, of telling me you wanted a divorce. Hell, of telling me you didn’t want to be with me anymore so you could stay friends with Steve.”

“You think I don’t want you? You think it doesn’t kill me not being with you, of knowing what happened between you and Steve a few weeks ago?” As Peggy looks down with shame, he grits out, “You can’t marry two people, Peg, and that’s the only way we’d all ever get along. Losing Steve almost killed us both once. I can’t go through that again.”

Tears roll down Peggy’s cheeks and she doesn’t bother wiping them away this time. Instead she looks around the packed up apartment and says, “Then I’ll come with you both. Dugan’s invited me to do it before. I can – “

“No, Peg. You got to stay here. You’ve got…you’ve got to move on.”

“And what, the two of you are going to tromp around Europe until I do? Fight every villain until you can be assured I’m not in play anymore, is that it?”

There are tears on Bucky’s face now too. “We can’t stay away from you.”

“No one is asking you to stay away from me except for you two. There’s no reason we couldn’t…work something out or – “

“We’re going, Peg. End of story. You’ve just…got to let us go.”

She starts to cry in earnest now, the sort of shaky, breathy crying she’s always hated. “What makes you think I can survive losing you both?”

“Because you’re stronger than both of us.”

Before Peggy can argue, the apartment door opens and Steve enters with a bag of carry out. When he sees them standing there, both crying, he freezes, face immediately folding with concern. Peggy shakes her head, wiping at her cheeks, and manages, “You’re both bloody idiots, but please be safe. I’m not burying anyone again.”

She lights the divorce papers on fire when she gets home, letting them burn to ash in her sink. Maybe they’re ready to leave her but she is not ready to let them go.

* * *

Two months after Bucky and Steve leave for Europe, Howard returns from California, tanned, lean, and full of crazy new ideas.

“We should start our own SSR,” he announces one afternoon when Peggy joins him at his beach house in the Hamptons. 

“Start our own intelligence agency? Howard, that’s absurd.”

“Why? I’ve got the money and the tech. You’re the best damn agent the SSR has. We could recruit the people we like, really make a difference. It’s only a matter of time before Congress decides the war is over and there’s no need for an SSR anymore.”

“So we just start a government agency?”

“No, we start a privately funded agency that works cooperatively with the government.” Howard waves a hand. “I’ll work up a business plan.”

Peggy laughs. “Easy as that, huh?”

“It’ll give us something good to focus our energies. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I get into trouble when left to my own devices.”

Peggy feigns a look of surprise as she presses her hand against her chest. “You don’t say.”

Howard smiles. “And I thought…I mean, you could use the distraction too, couldn’t you?”

Peggy pushes to her feet, crossing to the drink cart. “Please tell me you’re not suggesting this because you think I’m heartbroken and need rescued.”

“I would never accuse you of needing rescued, Peg.” He lights a cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke into the sky. “They’re good though, safe. I talked to Phillips when I was in Washington last. They’re doing a lot of great things, helping rebuild, all of that.”

“I’m glad,” she says, actually meaning it. “But that doesn’t mean we need to build our own agency.”

“Just think about it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Handing him a martini, she adds, “But don’t hold your breath.”

* * *

When Dr. Walsh calls her after her yearly SSR physical, she’s confused. She doesn’t feel ill and he’s never followed up with her after a physical. Daniel suggests she might need some new vaccination, which is all Peggy can figure, but she still pushes off her follow-up for several weeks.

Dr. Walsh doesn’t tell her she needs immunized though. Instead he sits down opposite of her and says, “Congratulations, Agent Carter. You’re pregnant.”

“That’s impossible.”

The old man’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You indicated on your questionnaire you’re married. It can’t be that impossible. We’ll need to do an exam to see how far along you are.”

When Dr. Walsh estimates her date of conception, Peggy curses a blue streak in her head. She’s only had sex twice in the last year, both times within a week of each other, and now she’s pregnant. It was the sort of story Angie loved to read in her pulpy books, and now it is Peggy’s life.

As she leaves Dr. Walsh’s office, she decides she is not going to tell Bucky or Steve. They wanted to be free of her, and dragging them back with a baby whose paternity she does not know is the opposite of that.

She’ll have to threaten Howard to keep him from spilling the beans, the big gossip.

* * *

The moment her belly swells, Thompson is downright gleeful in firing her. Pregnant women don’t work, especially not in intelligence, and Peggy wants to stab him through the heart with her letter opener. However, she needs this job, needs the money, and tries to reason with him, even agreeing to work as an operator so long as it comes with a paycheck. 

“Sorry, Marge, nothing I can do.” He smirks. “Besides, it’s the husband’s job to take care of the little woman.”

It takes two agents to pull her off of him, and she still throws Daniel’s crutch like a javelin, shattering the glass window of his office. She knows it’s only through Daniel’s intervention she isn’t brought up on charges.

Howard offers her the beach house and a salary helping him set up his agency. Peggy wants to refuse, too proud for such an obvious handout, but she needs money and the idea of crawling back to her family is even worse than accepting Howard’s help. Besides, there is no way for her to hide her massive belly now and no one is going to hire her.

“I don’t think it’s prudent, you alone out here while so far along in your condition,” Mr. Jarvis says one afternoon when he and Ana comes to visit her and help her assemble the crib she’s bought.

“I’m fine, Mr. Jarvis, thank you.”

“We’ve already spoken to Mr. Stark and he said we can stay with you until the baby is born,” Ana says, handing Peggy an overflowing bowl of her famous goulash. “You cannot drive yourself when it is time. We are happy to do it.”

Peggy blames the pregnancy hormones for tearing up. She asks the Jarvises then and there if they will be her child’s godparents. 

“We are Jewish,” Ana reminds her.

“And I’m an atheist but…he or she will need people to watch after them if something should happen to me. It doesn’t have to be official. I just want to make sure they aren’t alone.”

Ana rests her hand over Peggy’s and squeezes it as tight as she can. “So long as we are living, you and your child will never be alone.”

* * *

“I need a favor.”

Howard arches an eyebrow. “Anything.”

“I’ve spoken to Ana and Mr. Jarvis about taking care of the baby if something should happen to me. But if something does, I need you to make certain with your new agency – “

“ _Our_ new agency.”

“Our new agency,” she allows, “that no one comes for the baby.”

“Why would they?”

A furious blush crawling up her neck to her face, Peggy struggles to explain, “I know Red Skull experimented on Bucky during his captivity. I know you’ve studied his blood for any changes.”

“You think someone will want the kid because it’s Bucky’s?”

Fiddling with the material of her dress, she continues, “I think someone could want them if they knew the baby…might not be Bucky’s.”

Howard goes still for a long moment, understanding exactly what she is saying. Then he says, “I’d go to war for you, Peg, you know that.”

“You’re a good man, Howard.”

He shrugs. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

* * *

Black haired and red skinned, screaming like a banshee, Grace Anne Carter enters the world two weeks after her due date. Peggy wakes to find this strange little creature now belonging to her and only her, sore and sewn back together, still fuzzy headed from the twilight sleep. She doesn’t trust her arms at first, but when the nurse finally settles Grace against her, Peggy thinks she’s never loved anyone in the world more than this baby.

She doesn’t look like Steve _or_ Bucky. She doesn’t even look like Peggy really. Grace Anne Carter is wholly herself, and that makes Peggy smile.

Howard arrives bearing flowers, balloons, and a teddy bear so large, Peggy doesn’t know where he even bought it. He drops into the chair beside Peggy’s bed and holds out his arms. “Give me that Gracie girl.”

Peggy wrinkles her nose. “This is the first of many nicknames, isn’t it?”

Howard grins, accepting the newborn and holding it with surprising confidence. Peggy drifts off to sleep as Howard talks, still exhausted from nearly twenty-four hours of labor.

It isn’t until she receives Grace’s birth certificate in the mail she realizes what Howard did while Peggy slept.

“Why is your name on Grace’s birth certificate?” she demands the second Howard answers the phone.

“What?”

“I am looking at Grace’s birth certificate, and under father it reads ‘Howard Stark!’ Why are you on her birth certificate?”

“Aw, c’mon, Peg, we couldn’t let her be a bastard. Those nurses would’ve stamped her illegitimate.”

“It says her name is Grace Anne Stark!”

She swears she hears Howard flinch through the phone. “You got to admit, it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“I am going to murder you.”

“Peg, seriously, listen: remember what we talked about before she was born? Well, leaving it blank when everyone knows who you are, it could’ve raised questions. This stops the questions.”

Though still furious, Peggy sees the logic in what he’s saying. Still she snaps, “I’m so bloody sick of men deciding things for me!”

“You can punch me the next time you see me.”

She doesn’t punch him.

She _does_ knee him hard enough in the groin that Grace may end up being the only child he ever calls his own.

* * *

It takes eight months for the papers to find out millionaire playboy Howard Stark was on the birth certificate of a baby born outside the city. There’s even a picture of Howard playing with Grace on the beach during his last visit to the beach house, the picture neatly cropped to make sure Peggy but not either of the Jarvises was visible. 

**Howard Stark’s Secret Love Child!** the headline blares, and Peggy vows to murder Howard for about the 95th time in their lives.

They don’t give out Peggy’s name, which is the only positive thing about it, but it is still the last thing Peggy wants. Howard offers her the use of one of his penthouses in the city until things die down, and Peggy takes him up on it, Mr. Jarvis driving them into the city while Grace babbles without a care in the world.

“Forgive me for asking, Miss Carter – “

“Howard isn’t her father, Jarvis.”

He nods. “Right then.”

She’s been accused of sleeping with Howard so many times during their friendship, but this is the first time in a long while it’s stung.

It’s pure happenstance she runs into Evie. Peggy is pushing Grace’s pram down the street, looking into store windows, when she hears someone calling her name. She turns to see Evie hurrying towards her, eyes wide at the sight of Grace.

“It _is_ you!” Looking down at Grace, smiling and chattering to herself, Evie adds, “I saw you in the paper.”

“It isn’t what you think. Howard and I aren’t – “

“Oh!” Evie snorts. “I know that. I mean, I told Ma and the others there was no way you got with Howard Stark after all this time. Besides…” Evie reaches into the pram, touching Grace’s chubby cheek. “She looks just like Bucky. Don’t you think?”

She doesn’t. Grace’s hair had lightened to the same shade of brown as Peggy’s and her eyes were blue but that meant nothing; Peggy’s own brother had blue eyes as well. Angie swore Grace was the spitting image of Peggy and so did Ana, but they’d also never seen Bucky or Steve as babies.

“Did you tell him about the papers?”

“No, no, I would never, but…Mary Beth did. She was real angry when she saw the story and the pictures, especially since you never signed the divorce papers. You know how Mary Beth is, ranting and raving about what the Church would say. She wrote him a letter.”

Stomach dropping to her feet, Peggy manages a weak smile. “It’s all right. I really must be getting on but maybe we can have dinner while I’m in the city?”

“Absolutely! Oh, I miss you so much, Pegs!” Evie hugs her close. “Call me, okay?”

As Peggy starts down the street again, she looks at Grace and sighs, “Well, it seems your daddy knows by now. Both of them.”

* * *

Mr. Jarvis gives her the letter, bringing it from the beach house. Peggy recognizes Steve’s handwriting at once but puts off reading it for days. It is only after a 3am feeding with Grace that Peggy tears open the envelope and reads the short missive.

_Dear Peggy,_

_Congratulations on your little girl. I hope I can see you and her next time I’m state side. Give Howard my congratulations as well. Hope you are well. All is right here. Bucky says hello._

_Sincerely,_

_Steve_

For the first time in her life she wishes Steve wasn’t such a good man.

* * *

Bucky doesn’t write.

Peggy pretends it doesn’t break her heart.

* * *

Just after Grace’s first birthday, Colonel Phillips calls Peggy at her new apartment.

“Stark told me to call you,” he gruffly says, doing away with all pleasantries. “There’s an operation in London we’re trying to put together. Not particularly dangerous but we need a female agent. As you know, we don’t have many of those. I know you’re not with the SSR anymore – “

“No, they fired me, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Well I’m here to reinstate you if you’re interested.” Clearing his throat he adds, “I know you may not want the field now that you’re a mother – “

“I can find someone to tend to Grace while I’m gone. I can be there as soon as you need me. I only have one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t work with Jack Thompson.”

Phillips makes a rough sound that if made by anyone else would’ve been a chuckle. “Trust me, Carter, Thompson doesn’t want to work with you either.”

Ana is over the moon at the idea of having Grace for an entire week, and Peggy suspects she’ll return to an entire new wardrobe for her daughter. It is the first time she’s been away from Grace since her birth, and Peggy can’t believe the nervous flutter in her stomach about leaving her.

“She’ll be fine,” Howard assures her as they take off, Howard flying them to England. “That kid loves Ana. What’s not to love?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Hey, she’s my kid too.” At Peggy’s withering glare, he adds, “On paper. I love the little rugrat.”

It isn’t until they are climbing out of the plane and Peggy catches sight of Gabe Jones on the tarmac that her heart nearly stops. When Phillips said he was putting together an operation, she assumed he meant the SSR, not the 107th. She’d been so eager to get back into the field, she hadn’t thought to ask questions. And as she sees the rest of the Commandoes come into view, Steve and Bucky included, Peggy wants to vomit.

“Did you know – “

“No,” Howard cuts in, nervousness in his own voice at the murderous glare on Bucky’s face. “I didn’t know they were involved.”

“Wonderful.”

 _It’s just an operation,_ Peggy tells herself as she approaches the awaiting group. _There’s no reason to panic._

Taking a deep breath, Peggy puts on a bright smile, genuinely glad to see Dugan and the others even as her heart beats wildly at the sight of Bucky and Steve. “Hello, boys. Miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> There will be one more part after this. You can find me on tumblr as vixleonard.


End file.
